


Machine

by unspeakable3



Series: welcome to the most noble and ancient house of black [51]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Black Family-centric (Harry Potter), Ficlet, Ficlet Collection, Gen, Muggle Studies, POV Regulus Black, Regulus Black Feels, Regulus Black-centric, Sirius Black's Flying Motorbike, The Noble and Most Ancient House of Black, Wordcount: 100-1.000, Wordcount: 100-500, Young Sirius Black
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-08
Updated: 2019-09-08
Packaged: 2020-10-12 16:23:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 430
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20567324
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unspeakable3/pseuds/unspeakable3
Summary: Sirius was wearing that manic grin that meant he was about to divulge something terrible or dangerous — or both.





	Machine

“Reg! Look at this!”

Regulus glared at his brother as he launched himself over the _back _of the (immaculate, antique) couch and squeezed himself into the tiny gap between Regulus and its arm. Sirius was, as ever, completely oblivious to other people’s need for personal space. Regulus huffed and moved further up the couch but Sirius followed and thrust a hideously shiny magazine over the top of the book he had been _trying_ to read.

“_Look!_” Sirius demanded, pointing at the page.

“What is it?” asked Regulus, glancing down. “Is this a _muggle _magazine?” he asked in horror, raising his hands in the air just in case Mother might be able to tell that he’d _touched _something muggle.

“Yeah, I nicked it. But look at _this_,” he insisted, stabbing his forefinger repeatedly at the magazine. “Isn’t it _amazing?_”

“What is it?” Regulus repeated. Sirius was wearing that manic grin that meant he was about to divulge something terrible or dangerous — or both.

“It’s a muggle travelling machine thing. It’s called a…” he frowned, twisting the magazine towards him. “…a _motorbike_. I’m going to get one.”

Regulus raised an eyebrow at his brother’s decisive tone. “How? _Why?_”

“We’ve got to do a project in Muggle Studies next year, y’know like taking apart a muggle thing and seeing how it works. I’m going to do a _motorbike_,” Sirius grinned and leaned back, arms folded behind his head. Regulus felt a dread begin to curl in the pit of his stomach.

“You told Mother you weren’t taking Muggle Studies to OWL level,” he said evenly, staring at the unnervingly still photograph of this _motorbike _contraption.

“I tell Mother lots of things,” Sirius shrugged. “I’ll keep it by Hagrid’s. Moony says his mum’ll know somewhere I can get manuals and stuff, y’know to figure out how to put it back together? And Prongs reckons I should make it fly.”

“Of course he does,” Regulus muttered darkly. As if James bloody Potter could think of anything but _flying _for more than five seconds. He’d probably make Sirius ride it instead of a broomstick during their next Quidditch match.

He sighed and felt an enormous amount of discomfort at his brother’s delighted, distracted expression. Sirius was _brilliant _— far more intelligent than he had any right to be considering the amount of effort he put into his studies, which was exactly _none _— yet all he seemed to be interested in was wasting his time tinkering with these mundane muggle machines. Didn’t he realise that he could do _amazing _things, if he just set his mind to it?


End file.
